Invisibility
by StoryGirl.98
Summary: AU: Molly Hooper was invisible, no one ever really noticed her. But one day she gets her chance, singing onstage at the Opera House. Her one time onstage catches the attention of two people, Mr. Holmes, the Opera House manger, and James Moriarty, a mysterious man living beneath the opera itself. Based on The Phantom of the Opera.
1. Molly Hooper

She always felt invisible.

Even then, as she walked through the mostly clear nighttime streets, trying to avoid large puddles, but still being bumped into by more than one stranger. She supposed she didn't stand out enough for people to notice her. She was plain and blended in, and she didn't really mind. She just accepted it; that's the way life was. Her life at least.

Her name was Molly Hooper. She was in her mid-twenties and was smart, and some people told her she had the possibility of a great future. She didn't believe them. She was just that one girl who always blended in, absolutely nothing special about her.

She worked at the Opera House, a medium sized building on a busy London street. It was quite a popular place for some of the higher class people in the city. Irene Adler and her lovely singing voice were a big hit there.

Molly didn't sing, though she would have loved to. She had never been able to pull together the courage to audition in front of the two managers of the Opera House: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. She knew Mr. Watson was a nice person, but she always felt nervous around Mr. Holmes. She thought it was the cold, blue eyes that seemed to look right inside of her.

Her job was cleaning the place after every show. It was a large building, and as she was the only janitor, the chore took her all night. But she got to be alone in the splendor of the building, so she didn't mind at all.

She didn't mind a lot of things.

She arrived early on that particular night, early enough to see the Friday night show. She walked in through on of the side doors, specifically the one that lead to a dressing room. Once she entered, Molly meet a strange scene.

Most of the singers were there, gossiping, and that wasn't really an uncommon occurrence. They would take every chance they could to spread false news. The strange part was that every now and then one of the singers names would be called, and they would go off into a side room, and leave several minutes later with a pout on their face. Some even came out crying.

Molly wondered what it was all about, and she happened to see one of ticket takers, Sarah Sawyer, walk by. Sarah was one of the closest thing's Molly had to a friend, so she walked up to her.

"Sarah, what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

Molly gestured to the singers, and the door.

"Oh, that. Adler's sick, and Mr. Holmes and John are trying to find someone to replace her for the night."

"Really? I wonder who they'll chose."

"I'm not sure, but it's time's like this I'm glad I'm not a singer here. They're all best friends until one gets a better slot in the show."

"I know, right? And Miss Adler's spot is the best, there is probably going to be some rivalries made tonight."

Sarah looked down at her watch.

"I've got to go back to my booth. Let me know who hates who later, okay?"

Molly smiled and Sarah left. Molly supposed she should go too, but she stayed in her spot in the corner of the dressing room. She watched as another singer ran out of the side room, fresh tears on her face. Molly pitied her, she knew Mr. Holmes pointed out every single flaw, whether it be with singing or other things, and that he saw nothing wrong with doing that.

No one else was called into the room after that, and for the next few minutes the dressing room was filled with chatter as the occupants wondered who would be chosen.

Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson soon left the side room, and the room fell mostly silent.

"Was that everyone?" Mr. Watson spoke in a hushed tone to the other manager.

Mr. Holmes' eyes looked over everyone in the room.

"You," he said, pointing in the general direction of the person he was calling out.

Molly quickly glanced to her right and left, desperately hoping he was calling someone else.

"You, in the white hoodie. You didn't try out."

Molly felt all eyes in the room turn to her, and red crept into her cheeks.

"I-I'm not a s-singer, sir," she managed to stutter out.

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm the j-janitor."

"Can you sing?"

"Sort of, but not-"

"Get in there."

Molly's blush deepened as she walked past the group of singers watching the scene, and entered the side room. The room was empty, except for two small fold-up chairs. Mr. Watson directed Molly to stand opposite the chairs, and Molly searched her mind for a song.

Most songs she knew were the catchy, modern songs that played repetitively on the radio, but this was an opera house, and that would never do. She did know a few short opera songs that she had learned by heart due to playing soundtracks of famous singers while cleaning. She picked a short song in french, one that she had been caught singing in the shower once and complimented on.

She shut her eyes-

"Eyes open. Shutting your eyes is a sign you're not confident. If you are not confident, that will just throw off the singing," Mr. Holmes immediately said.

She opened her eyes, and focused on a corner of the room so she didn't directly see the two managers, and she began. She tried her hardest not to rush it, and she tried to remember every piece of advice on singing she had heard over the years. She soon found herself focusing less on her surroundings and the gaze of the two managers, but rather on the song itself.

Despite the feeling that it would last forever, it was over and done with in a short while. Mr. Holmes said nothing, but Mr. Watson gave her a smile and a compliment.

She quickly left the room after they excused her, and again avoided the looks of the singers as she walked past. The singers already thought they were above her, considering they were the stars, and she was just a janitor. If the rare chance happened and she was chosen, that would just give them all the more reason to hate her.

Molly pulled out her phone and checked the time, it was a little after five. The show started at six.

There was a few minuets wait, and more than a few glares sent Molly's way, before the door opened again. The two managers walked out, and Mr. Holmes lingered by the door while Mr. Watson walked up to Irene Adler's replacement.

He walked up to Molly.

He brushed right on past the singers, the numerous people who had poured their heart's into their careers, and walked right up to Molly, the janitor who was pretty sure she was going nowhere in life.

"We chose you," Mr. Watson said simply, "We feel you're the best for tonight. That song you sung is fine, as for a dress and things I'm sure something back here will fit you. We'll let you know when you're supposed to go on and things like that."

Molly would have loved to say thank you, or something along the lines of that, but the sudden rush of what she was going to do hit her. All she managed was a nervous smile.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine," he reassured her, before walking off to join Mr. Holmes, and then the duo exited the dressing room.

Chatter resumed by the singers, comments were made, and a few insults were discretely directed at Molly, both whispered and said loud and clear. More that a few nasty looks were sent Molly's way.

Molly heard nor saw any of that.

She would be singing. In one of the most popular opera houses in London. In the prime slot. While the thought was absolutely nerve-racking, she couldn't help but feel a buzz of excitement.

She, little Molly Hooper, who never thought she'd amount to anything, was going to sing on stage.

Molly smiled.

* * *

A/N: I'm in love with this idea. It just was one of those things that just stick. And I love writing this. It was one of the rare instances where I spend more than one day on a first chapter, because I really don't want to screw this up.

So this will be sorta like the Phantom of the Opera, but it will be its own thing too. I'm not quite sure how much it will resemble PotO once it's finished, but that's where the idea came from.  
Reviews are appreciated, very very much, whether it be a 'Nice Story', constructive criticism, or a five paragraph essay pointing out it's every flaw, though I'm positive that the last ones possibility is very very slim.

Anyways, I'm totally rambling now, but I hoped you like the first chapter.


	2. Onstage

Molly snapped out of her trance.

Sights and sounds filtered back in, and she suddenly remembered that she didn't have long to prepare for the show. Just a little over forty-five minutes before the first performer went onstage.

Finding a dress was an issue, but some of the nicer singers who wanted to be nice in case if Molly was a hit, had given her some suggestions, and a simple dark gray sleeveless dress that came down to her knees was soon chosen. She picked out some black flats, let her hair down, and then she was pretty much ready.

Molly walked into the main backstage area. A few of the first singers were already onstage. The Friday night show normally started at six and finished at ten. She would be going on the main spot, around seven-thirty.

The first singers on would be singing faster, lighter songs, and the last would be singing songs more slow and sad. The middle area was reserved for the best, because that was when the audience was fully entertained, but not to the point of being bored. It was all a matter of placing the right people at the right time.

The night seemed to brush by in a frenzy for Molly, as she watched singers leave the stage to be replaced by new ones, occasionally one of their 'special acts' going on, such as dancers or their one magician. Molly had that familiar sense of dread that came with doing anything new or exciting, and seven-thirty came all to fast, and all to slowly.

Mr. Watson walked out on stage, and Molly overheard him giving an explanation to Irene Adler's absence, and a quick introduction to the replacement.

He exited the stage, and Molly went on.

People. That's what she saw. The place wasn't as packed as it normally was on Friday nights, Adler's absence must have circulated, as she was the only reason some people came. Despite there being fewer people, there was still a lot, a lot to throw Molly's confidence a little. She had the sudden urge to close her eyes, but then remembered what Mr. Holmes had told her, and kept them open. She focused on the chandelier, to distract herself, and began.

Unlike the other performers, there was no music to accompany her, so she had to rely solely on her voice. She didn't miss a note, or forget a word, and she sung the song beautifully. The nervousness inside her gradually drifted away, and Molly even found her enjoying herself.

When she finished, she wasn't quite sure what she was expecting.

What she got was applause.

Loud, filling the large room, applause.

She smiled, and quickly walked offstage, still hearing the echoes of the applause. She receive a thumbs up from Mr. Watson, and a few smiles from the other performers. She ignored any dirty looks.

Seeing as she wasn't needed, she walked back into the dressing room, and changed back into her jeans and hoodie.

Molly grabbed her bag, and decided to wait for the show to be over before getting started on cleaning, and headed to the front of the Opera House, where Sarah most likely was.

"So, who does everyone hate now?" Sarah said jokingly when Molly walked in.

"Uh, me?"

Sarah's jaw dropped, and Molly laughed at her reaction.

"You, you sung, onstage, in Adler's spot?"  
"Yes I did."

* * *

James Moriarty was a puppet master, or so he called himself.

He controlled things. A lot of things, in fact. People, companies, places even.

And through hard work, and enlisting the right people in the right places, he was able to do it all from the comfort of under his opera house.

He had been the one to have it built long ago, and had enjoyed running it for the few months he had.

However, he had a small incident, one that left scars both mentally and physically, and he had to give it all up. His life, his world, the Opera House.

He had sold it, and after he tricked the few people who knew him into thinking he was dead, put the hidden tunnels in the walls, and the vast areas underneath the Opera to good use. He had lived there for years, no one the wiser.

And though he was technically dead by official records, he still had his hands controlling everything, through subtle ways. He had perfected the art of planting tiny ideas in a person's head, causing them to believe it was theirs, essentially getting whatever it was he wanted. It was all simple really.

Though he preferred to stay underground, or in the shadows at least, he would always come out on Friday nights to see the evening opera show. He had been the one to tailor the singers and the order they performed in, and left a sheet of the schedule on one of the managers desks. They, of course, thought it was from the other manager, and Moriarty had gotten what he wanted.

He also had a box that was entirely his own. It was a little off to the side and smallish, but he liked it nicely. From the point of choosing it, it was just a matter of making sure no one would sit there. He accomplished this by poking and messing with the few people who sat there, enough so they'll be bothered, but not enough to have the place officially checked out. The managers, upon hearing complaints from all who sat there, and after being annoyed when they sat there themselves, had decided to not sell tickets for those seats anymore. It was just a few dollars lost, nothing really at all. A few employees of the Opera House had called the box haunted, and it had became an inside joke to them ever since.

Moriarty sat in his box that night, watching the show, enjoying the entire thing. He was a criminal by day, but nights like this he would forget himself and lose himself to the music. Everything went smoothly and he enjoyed himself until Irene Adler was supposed to come out. She was one of Moriarty's favorite performers, she had been hired by him back when he was still 'alive'. He had been the one to give her fame, and after his 'death', she kept her position at the prime spot every night. She was supposed to go onstage exactly at seven-thirty.

The person who walked out was most definitely not Irene Adler.

She was a bit younger, and though Moriarty couldn't see her clearly from the high spot from his box, looked nervous, and displayed the obvious signs of someone new to performing. She seemed to have a major lack of confidence, but that all changed as she began singing.

She seemed to lose herself in the song, forgetting about the people watching her. Her voice was beautiful, and Moriarty actually liked her voice more than Adler's.

Her song was short, and she quickly walked off the stage once she was finished. Moriarty had the sudden wish that he'd payed attention to the managers babbling earlier, so he might at least know her name.

But that doesn't matter, he thought, as he entered a secret passage leading directly down to underground.

He had other methods of finding that out.


	3. The Voice

If there was one thing James Moriarty liked, it was having fun.

Not the kind of fun everyone would enjoy, but rather the kind of fun that a cat has with a mouse.

Toying with it, teasing and taunting, filling it with terror, right before he killed it, or let it scramble away, only for him to catch it again another day, and the process would repeat.

Moriarty had found his mouse.

He had noticed that the singer that had taken Adler's place hadn't left after the show was over, as they normally do, but instead went and talked to one of the ticket takers, and then headed to a supply closet. He watched with interest as she began to sweep out the numerous hallways, humming along to music playing on her phone slash music player. It was obvious from the way she knew her way about the building and where all the supplies were kept that she cleaned the place regularly. Since Moriarty knew for a fact she wasn't a singer, he guessed she was a janitor, who must have had a luck break. Since she thought she was alone in the building, she didn't resist singing along with the music, and even dancing around occasionally, basically doing all the things people like to do when no one was watching. Moriarty thought she was entertaining to watch.

She soon finished with the hallways, and moved onto the main area, with the stage and seating, and continued to sweep.

Moriarty decided to have a little fun.

* * *

Molly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and continued to sweep, her earlier performance running through her mind. She was still a little on edge from the performance, and even though it was over and done with, felt nervous from thinking of all the ways that it could have gone wrong. She tried to ignore those thoughts, however, and put her energy into her work, hoping that she could finish earlier than normal.

She tugged her earbuds out of her ears and turned off the music, stuffing the device into her right pocket, to get a break from the music, and enjoyed the silence of the large room she was in.

"Hello~oo," a sing-song voice suddenly said, dragging the small word out. Molly jumped at the noise and looked around the room, half expecting to see some creeper watching her.

Surprisingly, she saw no one.

She slipped a hand into her pocket, and wrapped her fingers around her Swiss Army knife. She knew it'd be next to useless if she was attacked, but she took it out anyways, prepared to flip the blade open.

"W-who's there," she said to the empty room, trying to sound brave but failing.

"Oh, don't be scared love," the voice cheerily replied, "I'm not going to hurt you. Yet."

The voice echoed in the large room, giving the impression that it was everywhere at once, which made it all the more chilling when paired with what the stranger was saying.

"I've been watching you. Quite a lovely singing voice you have there."

Molly didn't reply, but she did start to slowly inch towards the big double doors at the end of the aisle she was on.

"Not so fast."

The doors simultaneously slammed shut. Molly let out a squeak of surprise.

"I just want to chit-chat a little, must you be leaving so soon?"

Molly looked over every spot in the room, trying to find the voice's owner.

"I think not. Now, I'm _very _curious dear, what is your name?" The voice finally stopped.

Molly didn't really want to reply, and the stranger must have seen this.

"Come now, it's fine," it said coaxingly.

Molly still didn't answer.

"Your name!" The voice suddenly shouted,this time demanding, not a trace of the sing-song cheeriness was left.

"M-molly Hooper. M-my n-name is Molly Hooper," Molly managed to stammer out.

"Molly. Pretty name," the voice paused for a moment, "Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry, Miss Molly, but I must be going."

Molly heard the soft taps of footsteps going away from the room.

"See you soon!"

Molly waited a few minutes, listening carefully, but only being met with silence. Once she was positive she was alone again, she headed towards the double doors, half-running.

She left behind her broom and other cleaning supplies, focusing only on getting out of there. She knew she'd be in for a scolding for leaving her things out and not cleaning everything, but at the moment, she didn't care, all she wanted was out.

She exited the Opera House and instead of walking home like she normally did, managed to hail a cab instead. Leaning into the cushioned seat, she tried to calm her breathing and forget what happened. She made it home in short order, and quickly climbed the stairs till she was at her floor, and entered her apartment.

Locking the door behind her, she leaned against it for a moment, wondering just who, or what, that stranger was.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry for the shortness, but it needed to end here. Hopefully the next few will be longer.

Also, I've noticed most of my reviewers are Sherlolly fans. Honestly, this story will have plenty of Mollyarty and plenty of Sherlolly, but I still haven't quite decided who she'll end up with.

But don't worry, there will be enough to satisfy shippers of both ships, and I'll try to figure out a way to end this with everybody satisfied.


	4. A New Case

Molly let out a yawn as she walked into the Opera House. It was around nine in the morning, usually she was asleep by then, normally returning home around five, and sleeping through the day. But due to the person in the opera last night, she had left early, and kept herself awake so she could return and clean the place in broad daylight, when a few other people would be there.

As she entered the main area, she found her cleaning supplies right where she left them, and smiled. Maybe she wouldn't be caught after all, if she sped up and tried to clean the other rooms swiftly before anyone noticed.

"Missed work last night?"

Molly jumped slightly at Mr. Holmes's voice, still on edge from last night. Mr. Holmes stood from the row he was sitting on, and walked over.

"I can't help but notice that the House isn't clean. Why?" he asked, accusingly. Molly tried to figure out how to explain the situation.

"W-well, Mr. Holmes, you see," she meekly began.

"Stop stuttering and spit it out!"

"There was a person in the opera last night!" Molly quickly answered.

"A person? Who?" Mr. Holmes demanded.

"I don't know. I-I only heard his voice, I couldn't see him."

"Did you recognize his voice? Perhaps he works here?"

Molly shook her head. She wasn't quite as nervous now that Mr. Holmes sounded less demanding, and more curious.

"No sir. I know everyone who works here, and I didn't recognize his voice."

"Did he talk to you?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

Molly relayed the entire conversation she had with the stranger last night, while Mr. Holmes listened carefully. He seemed pretty interested in it, for some reason. Molly finished shortly, and Mr. Holmes asked her a few more questions, like where was the voice coming from, how did it sound, where did the footsteps retreat too, and other things. Molly wasn't quite sure of all the answers, and though this frustrated Mr. Holmes, he couldn't blame her. He noticed she was pretty jumpy, and she was probably too scared last night to pay much attention.

After getting any information he could, he left, forgetting completely about the fact that she didn't do her job last night.

Molly watched as he excitedly left. She was a little puzzled about why he was excited about a break in, rather than worried, like most people would be, but she decided not to question it, and set back to work.

* * *

Sherlock half ran to his office that he shared with John, excited over the information that the janitor had told him.

He burst into the office, startling John, and headed for his desk.

"What are you so happy about?" John questioned, noticing his normally emotionless friend's cheery attitude.

"New case," Sherlock answered simply. He started to pace back and forth across the room.

"I thought we weren't doing cases anymore," John said. Him and Sherlock were detectives once, but that was a while back, they had given it up in favor of managing the Opera House.

"Yes, but this is too exciting to pass up."

"What is it all about?"

"The person who took Irene's place last night, whatshername,"

"Molly," John answered.

"Yes, Molly. Well there was a break in last night, and the stranger talked to her. Commented on her singing, asked for her name, other things like that."

"A break in?" John said, worriedly.

"Yes, but that's not the interesting bit. You know how I always check around the building every morning? I checked today, and there was absolutely no sign of a forced entry. The alarms didn't even go off. So that means..." he let the sentence trail off, waiting for John to come to his own conclusions.

"So it was an inside job," John finished, moments later.

"Not likely. The janitor claims to know everyone working here and she said she didn't recognize the voice."

"She should know every one, she's been working here as long as we've been running it."

"So how?"

"How what?"

"How did he break in? Who was he, and most importantly, _why_ did he break in?"

John looked at his overly excited friend. Although he thought they were done with all detective work, apparently not. And he knew that if he told Sherlock to just forget about it, then Sherlock would go out and try to figure it out on his own, which would bring just more trouble.

"I suppose we can start by checking the security cameras," He said, giving in.

A brief smile appeared on Sherlock's face as he headed to his laptop and pulled up the security camera feeds. John walked over and they both watched the various feeds as Sherlock thought over any possible intruders.

There was his 'arch nemesis', his brother, Mycroft, but there was no motive for him to break in. Perhaps a thief, but there wasn't really anything valuable at the Opera House, save for a few paintings and several vases and sculptures, but all of those were in there place. Sherlock and John didn't have any _enemies, _per se. There were a few people who just generally didn't like them, but none of them hated them as much to break in to the House. Especially with their close ties to the police due to helping them on several cases, the Opera House didn't seem like a target for... anything, really.

Sherlock added up all the facts, and came to a conclusion.

The intruder must have had access to the Opera House or someone working there, and they must have been either really clever or really dumb to pull off such a spotless crime. And then there was the matter of motive, and nothing obvious had shown up in that field.

"Sherlock," John said, distracting Sherlock from his thoughts, "Look at this."

Sherlock turned his attention to the laptop, and John rewinded a bit of the footage.

"Around midnight, for five minutes or so, the recording just cuts off."

Sherlock watched as the video showed the janitor sweeping, and then it cut to black. No audio, no video. John fast-forwarded it, and then when the audio and video returned, the place was completely empty, with the sound of the large double doors shutting, behind the janitor most likely.

"Interesting," Sherlock said.

* * *

A/N: So sorry for the lateness of this chapter! I've had it sitting around on my laptop for like ever, and then I had a ton of laptop issues (which are fixed now, yay!), and I just got around to writing the end of this chapter.

Hopefully the next one will be out sooner!


End file.
